


300 days and some to spare

by TCFactory



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Gen, Institute of War, Mixing old lore with new, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCFactory/pseuds/TCFactory
Summary: In which Azir is done, Lux needs ten hugs and a bunny, Karthus lost the music sheets (again!), Darius is drowning in paperwork, Caitlyn deserves a raise, Viktor didn't sign up for any of this and Xerath really wants a window. Life as always at the Institute of War. (Formerly League Shorts Reboot)





	1. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xerath has a visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, kicking off with a less than happy reunion. Although it could be worse, I suppose.

Silence. All around him it was silence, soothing, all-encompassing, _suffocating_. Of course, he was long past the need for air, but at times he still couldn’t shake the urge to draw breath. The muscle memory remained, even lacking the muscles and lungs necessary.

Even after all this time – how long was it? Years, decades, centuries, _too long_. – it hurt, panic bubbling up in his core as he tried to breathe but _couldn’t_. Wrapped in the deafening silence he screamed – he _roared_ , a sound of rage and anguish and the thick, cold walls echoed it back to him, amplified until he collapsed, drawing his shell tight around him to block out - to trap inside - the sound.

This had happened before, he vaguely recalled. A different darkness, a different room, a different echo – was it him screaming then or someone else? There was someone else, yes. He didn’t scream at first, the other.  Later, however, when the walls started to feel too close, too heavy, when there was no doubt they were buried and forgotten, left to rot, he found his voice, deep as rolling thunder.

One could lose itself in the rumble and that he did, let the echo wash over him and erase the outside world. Until the last note died away, he could pretend, focusing on the sound waves resonating through his core, that this was all, that he was at peace.

Then the world came crashing back, the thick, black walls of his prison all around and he realized with a start that someone invaded his sanctum. The intruder knelt on the cold stone, head bowed in respect – respect he did not deserve, never did, never will-, the low light of the room glinting off the golden hawk’s head of their helmet.

It awakened a memory, a warm smile and gem-green eyes, the image worn blurry by years passed. It was puzzling, both in its simplicity and how out of place it felt, but he had no motivation to inspect it while he had something much more real to scrutinize.

“I see the summoners ensnared yet another fool,” he commented, voice cold and flat. No vocal cords meant that no amount of screaming could turn his voice hoarse so he pretended that it never happened.  Maybe it never did. Once the noise quieted he could never tell if it was real or just the silence echoing within him. Gods knew he had enough emptiness in him to turn a sigh into a storm.

The intruder looked up and he found himself momentarily disappointed that the sharp eyes boring into him were blue.

“Do you fancy yourself a fool, Master Xerath?” A clear, pleasant voice, its tone one of quiet wonder, but the Magus bristled at it, his temper raising.

“Insolent pest!” he snapped, lifting off his pedestal to tower over the already kneeling form. “Did they send you to torment me?” The bird rose, easily as tall as Xerath, his movements choppy. A fresh Ascended, if Xerath was any judge.

“I came on my own, driven by curiosity once I heard that the summoners stash you away in this chamber when they have no better use for you.” Cruel words, but not untrue and Xerath chose not to acknowledge them. “Also, unless my hearing fails me, you have plenty of demons to torment. I do not wish to add to your burden.”

Xerath sunk closer to the ground without noticing. Of course it happened, of course the stranger heard. He had no eyes to close, no ears to cover and the only way this man – bird, beast, _Ascended_ – could sneak into his presence undetected was when he was lost in the head he didn’t have.

“You are rude and considerate in the same breath. Were you this infuriating before ascending, I wonder?”

“Some say I was. And you, Master Xerath?”

“Was I what?”

“Quite this stubborn in your misery.”

Xerath pulsed out a wave of energy, pushing the cheeky intruder away. Lacking face, he could easily play it off as lashing out in annoyance – as the other clearly took the gesture, bending his head in apology – not as reaction to a sharp sting of panic. Someone had asked him that before, again and again, with green eyes and an exhausted kind of fondness, but he couldn’t pin a name to it, couldn’t recall the face or the voice and clawing at missing memories felt exactly like trying to breathe without lungs.

“I apologize if I overstepped.” Xerath turned his attention back to the bird, angling the headpiece of the sarcophagus to mimic a glare.

“What do you want from me? I’m sure that the cur already told you everything about me.”

“Nasus is biased. I would much prefer to hear what you have to say.”

Suspicion rose in Xerath and he lashed out again, this time on purpose and knocked the bird over.

“You! Curious, was it? They told you I was insane, so you came to stare and prod at the madman, didn’t you?” He moved to hover over the golden Ascended, energy cracking over the sarcophagus, reflecting his thunderous rage.

Head tilted to the side, the bird appeared sad and remarkably calm for someone in his situation.

“Almost, but not quite. You have been locked in a dark hole with a mad warrior for a thousand years. I have no doubts about the state of your sanity now. What I do have to wonder about is the state of your sanity when you committed treason.”

Xerath reared up with a roar, energy arcing between his hands, ready to strike down the insolent bastard, but he let it harmlessly dissipate in the air in the last moment. The bird was infuriating, but he was not worth antagonizing the summoners – petty mages, pesky morsels – holding his leash.

“You’re out of your luck, little hawk. I remember waking from agony, already in the dark, with a crocodile for company. That’s all I can recall from that time.” A half-truth at best, but he had only Renekton’s madness, pain and those memories for company for decades upon decades upon decades and he refused to recall them for the whimsy of a freshly ascended feather duster.

“Of course. I understand.” The bird hung his head again in what Xerath guessed to be disappointment. “Maybe it is for the better. Thank you for your time and patience, Master Xerath. I shall not bother you longer.”

He turned to leave, but Xerath lifted a hand and pulled, exerting some of his magic to hold him back.

“Wait. Favor for a favor. I answered your question, now answer me. Why do you insist calling me ‘master’?”

The bird paused, not fighting the hold, but not turning back to face Xerath either.

“Are you not a master of the arcane? You earned your title, even if your actions earned you another, less favorable one. Alas,-” He hesitated, only for a moment. “-favor for favor. The summoners plan to move you to the Shuriman main building, once the construction is finished. Do you have any request about your accommodations? A room with a view, perhaps?” The bird tilted his beak up, glancing at the bare ceiling. “Maybe even a window to the night sky.”

It struck Xerath speechless, the generosity of the offer. Four walls leant heavy on him for every moment of his existence not spent in the mock battles of the summoners and the prospect of seeing the sky at his own leisure again awoke a longing he thought long forgotten.

“Who are you to offer something like that?” he demanded, his invisible hold tightening to a point that must have been painful. The golden Ascended just chuckled with bitter humor, the sound echoing back to them in a cascade.

“Why, I am Azir, of course.”

In a moment of shock his hold faltered and Azir slipped from the room, heavy magic proof door slinging shut after him. Just in time, for a moment later Xerath fell against it like a vicious beast, clawing at and pounding on the stone with fists that couldn’t even scratch the surface, arcane lightning pouring from his form and crawling harmlessly over every available surface – the summoners, may the jackals feast on their innards, prepared well for his outbursts.

“COME BACK YOU COWARD! COME BACK AND FACE ME!” There was no answer from the other side of the door, but he did not cease his pounding. “HE SAID THAT YOU DIED! THEY SAID THAT YOU DIED, THAT YOU ARE DEAD AND DUST! YOU CAN'T JUST WALK AWAY LIKE THAT YOU COWARD!”

The walls echoed back his words, a cacophony of dead and dust and coward until Xerath’s rage ran dry and he floated back to the center of his room, his sanctuary, his prison and chose to savor the last sounds of the echoing noise.

If Azir planned on staying true to his word and did not simply dangle the hope of better accommodations in front of him as a form of torture, he won’t have to listen to the echoes much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an older chapter I wrote when I first toyed with rebooting the series that I touched up on a bit so I'm not quite happy with it, but I don't really dare to touch it more. 
> 
> Comments and critique are always welcome and I'm exceptionally open to title suggestions. Although it might be better to stick with this, for continuity's sake.


	2. Minds alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draven and Azir have a chance meeting and a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took forever to write this. This chapter was supposed to have the introduction to Taliyah, but it felt off to put it right after the Xerath meeting and then the whole thing just ran too long so in the end I threw my plan out the window, pushed the Taliyah confrontation to the next chapter and went with something different. Please enjoy. :)

Despite outward appearances, the meeting with Xerath left Azir shaken. How could it have not? To hear Xearth scream in the dark awoke his pity, even if he came to him with the firm determination to confront the traitor.

The idea to hide his identity until the last moment was a sudden one, but he didn’t regret it in bit. He suspected that if he marched in with his heart on his sleeve and ready for confrontation, so to speak, he would not have noticed how deep Xerath’s mental instability ran.

Azir was walking through the courtyard, deep in thought still, when he heard someone call out to him. The voice turned out to belong to the one and only Draven who disentangled himself from a huge group of fans and rushed to him with a broad grin.

“Azir, my man! Just the guy I needed.” The overly familiar tone irked Azir, but the Noxian wound an arm around his own with a vice-like grip before he could escape the hold. “I was looking for you everywhere like you wouldn’t believe! Could we have just a word? In private.”

The last bit was tagged on like an afterthought in a much quieter tone. It made Azir curious enough that the ascended let himself be dragged out of the limelight to a secluded spot behind a few huge crates of building materials. From the look of the place, it was probably one of the spots the clerks sneaked off to smoke, well out of the way.

Draven took a hasty look around to make sure they were well out of earshot and not visible from the main buildings and immediately took a few steps back to remove himself from Azir’s personal space.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Can’t fall out of character in front of my audience. Gotta keep up appearances and all.” This was perhaps the first time he heard Draven use an indoor voice. He suspected that Draven was capable of setting aside the showmanship, being a de facto member of the Noxian high command, but it was a relief that the man spared him the tiresome theatrics, at least in private.

He wished he could smile. Serious for once and slouching slightly in the cold, Draven looked almost like a different person; it reminded him eerily of someone he once knew.

Someone he once was.

“It is no trouble. I understand perfectly.”

“You do?” Draven seemed taken aback.

“Yes indeed.” Azir hesitated just a moment before he decided to elaborate. After all, it all could be found in the history books if someone was good at reading between the lines. “I was the first member of the royal family for several generations who showed any talent in the arcane. As such the priests and the loyalist went to great lengths to present me as a chosen Mage King, favorite of the gods.” He raised his arms and struck a pose before taking up a more relaxed stance once again. “It made dealing with the nobility significantly easier that they believed the gods themselves may smite them if they openly rebelled against me, thus I never bothered to shatter the illusion.”

Draven listened with almost scary intensity. Definitely not something Azir would have expected from a man who played the role of the self-centered showman with such obvious enjoyment. The information seemed to be new to him and his interest appeared genuine, so Azir didn’t particularly mind.

“Wow. That’s… wow. Cool. So all the tricks with the sand…” he trailed off and made a gesture with his hand, trying to illustrate Azir’s magic, still clearly intrigued.

“Ah. No. I am a necromancer. The sand is a novelty.”

It was highly entertaining to watch Draven’s expression go through a series of rapid changes that started somewhere around shock and, oddly enough, ended smack dab in the middle of a triumphant grin.

“Yes! Vanquisher of Plagues! I knew that had to mean something. Vladimir is going to go bananas when I tell him.”

Now it was Azir’s turn to be surprised. Lack of scrutiny over practicing necromancy was one thing – he knew it well that the art wasn’t as frowned upon in Noxus as in most places – he could even understand that one might know of necromancy’s more practical uses

He did not expect to hear it all from Draven.

“Have you read up on me?” he asked with mild suspicion.

“Of course I did. I check out every celebrity who joins up.” Checking out possible competition then. That made marginally more sense. “It’s not a secret, right?”

“Hardly. As you have pointed it out, Vanquisher of Plagues has been one of my official titles for a long time now. You can harass the hemomancer with the fact that you figured it out sooner than him.”

He suspected that there was some disagreement between Draven and Vladimir, although he couldn't pinpoint its cause, but the downright giddy expression that spread on Draven's face was confirmation enough that his suspicion had some basis to it.

“Is that all?” Azir asked with a hint of impatience. “As much as I enjoy this _tête-à-tête_ , I have duties to attend to.” Draven narrowed his eyes and Azir briefly wondered if he misspoke.

“What's that word? The tet-sumthing. Sounds Demcian.”

“I can truthfully say that I have no idea.”

“But you just said it!”

“I _died_ long before the foundation of Demacia. All my knowledge of temporary languages in magically imparted. I am possibly the least qualified person on the matter of linguistics.” He crossed his arms and glared, as if that would prevent the Noxian from getting any more off topic.

“Riiight. Sorry, I forgot. I was looking for you because Jericho wants you to swing around to our HQ and get that stone-mage girl under control. She's been a nuisance all morning.” It took him a long moment to decipher that Draven meant Taliyah. The young stoneweaver was firm in her determination to do good, but very misguided in her actions and was as a result the cause of a great many headaches.

“Very well, I shall see what I can do to reign her in.”

“Much appreciated.” Draven hesitated for a spell before he went on. “There's also a personal request. A small favor, if you'd grant it.” Azir gave a small gesture with his hand that he should continue. “I'd like to borrow someone from your staff. The photographer chick, the pretty one who made your promotion pictures.” He mimics the act of taking a photo which honestly wouldn't help any if Azir didn't already know the person in question.

“Seha'Din? I suppose so. However I hope you do realize that I can not order her to date you if she was not inclined to do so on her own.” In his place, Azir would have been insulted by an accusation like that, but Draven encountered the claim often enough to shrug it off with a sigh.

“Nah. I know what people say, but everyone who gets a piece of Draaaven-” He struck a seductive pose and gave a lewd wink. “- does so because they want to. I need the expertise of, ugh... Sedin?”

“Seha'Din.” He could see Draven silently mouthing the name a couple of times.

“I'll need to practice that. Anyhow, our own photographer is a hack and the whole big bad barbarian theme they went with in every photo shoot ever really hurt Darius' rep. He's a general for fuck's sake, not Garen Crownguard, Noxian edition.” Azir chuckled slightly at the Executioner's anger, but couldn't find it in him to disagree. Garen was a decent enough fellow, based on their limited interactions, but definitely not the sharpest sword in the armory.

“That last series of photos your lady made were good stuff. Subtle symbolism and whatnot, that's the stuff people like.” Azir held up a hand before Draven could go on.

“Restoring your brother's good image is as noble a cause as any. I'll tell her to arrange it. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to prevent young Taliyah from causing an international incident and I suppose your adoring crowd would be most delighted to have you back.”

“Yeah, right. Thank you for your time, emperor.” Draven, reading loud and clear that he had been dismissed gave a parting nod and took his leave. Azir waited a few more minutes before following him, heading towards the Noxian main building.

There was no love lost between him and Taliyah, but as the head of the Shuriman delegation it was his responsibility to keep the stoneweaver out of trouble and gods help him she found trouble everywhere she went.

He squared his shoulders and prayed to whatever deity may listen that she would be settled with words only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no avoiding it, next time is Taliyah time.
> 
> I'm generally speaking not a big fan of the 'Demacia now fears magic' change, but it sounded like an interesting enough challenge to try and write around, so Shurima will be leaning towards Noxus when it comes to political alliances.
> 
> I'm having ideas and throwing them at the wall to see if they stick in any vaguely entertaining pattern or color combination. Apologies in advance for any odd concepts that will undoubtedly rear their heads up as the story goes. I hope you'll enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy coming up with them.


	3. Act first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taliyah faces off against Azir and has to deal with the immediate consequences. (Title changed from League Shorts Reboot.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and injury in this chapter. Nothing too bad I hope, just a warning that Taliyah injures someone.

Cassiopeia rested her chin on the parapet, her tail curling idly as she looked down at the scene below.

“Do you think we should help him?” she asked as Taliyah hurled a barrage of sharp rocks – much sharper than what she used on the field - at Azir. He sidestepped the projectiles with more grace than one would expect from his size, but the girl was relentless.

“Better him than us,” Darius said from the side, sporting a mighty frown and a black eye after his earlier run-in with the stoneweaver. Luckily for him, she wasn’t at the stage of rage to throw pointy stones yet or the general would have come out of the scuffle one eye shorter.

They all collectively winced when Taliyah changed her rhythm and Azir didn’t step aside quickly enough, two of her projectiles hitting him straight in the chest. His armor absorbed most of the impact, but it staggered him for a moment, just long enough to bolster Taliyah’s confidence and renew the vigor of her attacks.

Katarina jogged outside to the balcony to join the onlookers. She exchanged a hostile glare with Darius, just to make it clear that they are still not friends and handed him an ice pack that he took with a grunt of definitely-not-gratitude.

“What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Cassiopeia said, raising an elegant hand to lazily gesture at the scene. “He tried his sand as distraction, it didn’t work, she shouted a lot about tyranny and slaves and now they are back to the kid tearing up the pavement and Azir trying to herd her to the wall.” She tilted her to the side to look at the others. “Are we sure we don’t want to interfere before she destroys the whole courtyard?”

“No need. He has it in hand.” Darius rested his elbows on the parapet next to Cassiopeia, one hand holding the ice to his eye. “She didn’t even notice that he was backing her into a corner. I give it three more minutes. Five at most. Just enjoy the show.”

* * *

 

When her back hit the wall, the surprise was sharp and unpleasant like a splash of ice-cold water. It took Taliyah a moment to try and wrap her mind around how that happened and that moment was all the beast needed to lunge for her and pin her arms to the wall.

“It is over. Enough of this tantrum.” She struggled weakly, a token resistance even as she shrunk away from the stern voice and his unrelenting grip. He was easily twice as big as her, strong enough with wicked claws to tear her in half without breaking a sweat.

She hated to admit, but her only choices were surrender or death and she didn’t fancy dying young.

To add insult to injury, the sound of cheering and clapping came from above. Taliyah felt her cheeks color with humiliation. Just as she was unaware of Azir leading her into a corner one step at a time, she was ignorant to the presence of their spectators.

The snake woman made the most noise, clapping and cheering, but her sister gave a few claps as well. The big brute next to them remained silent, but his smug expression might have been the worst of all.

She really should have thrown that rock harder. Had it put a hole in the barbarian’s head, the world would have become a better place and she wouldn’t have to suffer that smirk now.

Before she could call them out on it, Azir relocated his hand to her shoulder, sharp pricks of pain reminding her to behave where the talons dug into her skin. From the corner of her eye she saw him nod at the Noxians as he half steered, half dragged her away.

The way to the Shuriman temporary HQ was an awkward affair. Taliyah felt like every technician, summoner or clerk they passed by was staring at her, gossip flaring up as they passed them. She had no doubt that by the end of the day, everyone will have heard of what happened or at the very least some extremely over the top retelling of the event.

“This is humiliating,” she mumbled under her breath when a giggling clerk - someone from the Shuriman staff no less! -  took a picture of them.

“You thoroughly deserve it for the trouble you have caused today,” the beast snapped without sympathy. “It is fortunate that it is common knowledge that you are a wild, unpredictable child, not representative of Shurima’s political or moral standing, else your actions would have easily cost us crucial allies.”

“Good! They are monsters, each and every one of them!” she said vehemently, valiantly ignoring that her exclamation brought even more curious looks their way as she tried to twist out of Azir grip.  
“Did Yasuo tell you that?” Azir, of course, remained unshaken, merely hooking his claws into the fabric of her coat to discourage struggling. Not wishing to have the precious gift torn to shreds, she ceased.

“It was someone who knows even more of the evil ways of Noxus than my mentor.”

“Ah, so it has been Riven then.” Azir pushed her through a door with enough force to make her stumble and fall. While she picked herself up from the floor, she overheard him instruct someone outside.

“Inform Yasuo that his charge is with me. I expect him to pick her up at the earliest convenience.” There were more muffled words and then a small noise as Azir closed the door, well and truly trapping her inside.

She stare ahead blindly, dread taking over. She didn’t think of what her master would think of her actions today.

“In hindsight I suppose I should not be surprised,-” Azir said as he nudged her to the side to walk further into the small room. “-But I rather hoped that the wanderer’s guidance would keep you from getting into wrong company. It appears that I was mistaken.” He ducked through a set of heavy curtains that separated the space into two distinct portions and she realized with a start that he most likely brought her to his own room. “Even so, you should really pick your role models better than a deserter and war criminal.”

Taliyah stopped scrutinizing the impersonal furnishing of this half of the room and dove after Azir through the curtains.

“She is not!” The rest of her outrage died on her tongue as two things registered in quick succession: first that the curtain was indeed blocking off Azir’s more spacious, more personal half of the room and second that the ascended moved out of her sight to strip his heavy armor off.

She only took one glance at him – the fine gray of the back of his head, a flash of yellow beak as he twisted his head to glare at her over his shoulder – and a fleeting look at the rest of the room - personal knickknacks strewn all over the bed in no particular order, everything covered in fallen feathers - before retreating with a squeaked apology.

He looked like a private person and she had an inkling that if she didn't move out of his personal space he would have thrown her out himself.

“Riven has mislead you if she portrayed herself as an unsung heroine striking out against Noxus.” Taliyah cringed slightly when he returned to the earlier topic as if the awkward intermission didn’t happen. “The campaign in Ionia was nothing short of atrocious. I do not deny that, but keep in mind that Riven took part in those atrocities without complaint until it no longer benefited her. Those are the acts of a coward and deserter, not someone worthy of admiration.”

“Rich coming from you, you should know all about cowardice!” Taliyah snapped in his direction, glaring angrily at the silhouette he cast on the curtain. “You are all talk but when the raiders descended on Vekaura and killed and pillaged you were nowhere!” She saw his shadow freeze, tilting his head in a way that she could only describe as hesitant, but before he could answer to her accusations someone knocked on the door. She jumped at the sound, startled. She forgot for a moment that they were waiting for her master.

“Come in!”

The door opened and Yasuo stepped in, his eyes anxiously darting around the room until he found Taliyah. He was breathing heavily after he ran here, which made her avert her eyes with guilt. Not for striking out against Noxus or Azir, never that, but for causing trouble for her master.

“You have called me?” Yasuo asked, standing primly by a desk Taliyah had been too distracted to notice before. He made a small gesture to catch her attention and silently mouthed _Are you okay?_ to her.

 _I’m fine_ , she mouthed back, taking a few steps closer to stand next to him. Just to have him close was an immediate relief.

“Yes. I apologize for dragging you here on such short notice, but I am afraid it was inevitable after what went down today.” Taliyah could see him move around on the other side of the curtain, too much of a coward to even face them while he spoke. And this creature wanted to lecture her about cowardice? Hah! “Your charge has attacked and injured one of the Noxian champions and attempted to kill me not soon after.”

Yasuo went pale, one hand moving to grip his sword just as Azir finally stepped out from behind his cover. Taliyah's mind struggled for a moment to make sense of the sight, Azir stripped to the waist and his front a bloody mess, feathers stained and torn like something, someone – _you_ , a little voice in the back of her consciousness supplied – had mauled him. The worst was the gaping wound on his neck, raw and still bleeding despite his best effort to press a rag to it to lessen the blood flow. In his other hand he held shard of sharpened rock, the kind Taliyah was throwing around earlier, as thick and long as her own arm, the obvious cause of the wound. Azir placed it down on the desk with a kind of nonchalance that made something primal in Taliyah recoil, because no living being should be that calm after they dug a two-feet-long spike out of their neck.

She averted her eyes in quiet horror, an uneasiness taking root in the pit of her stomach. She turned her eyes down to the floor, but now that she was aware that the ascended was injured, it was suddenly impossible to ignore the droplets of blood on the light wood so she focused on the shifting shadows on the curtain instead.

“Were it anyone else, they would have died.” Azir stated, wiping his palm on his chest as best as he could. The feathers were already stained with dried blood, adding more to it hardly mattered. “This is no longer a petty grudge that can be waved off with a few harsh words. I hope I do not need to remind you under what terms was young Taliyah allowed to stay under your supervision.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Yasuo wordlessly nod, his jaw tense as he grit his teeth. She wanted to ease his worry, to tell him it wasn't like that, but the words died on her tongue because as much as it pained her to admit it, Azir was right. Had it been anyone else, they would have died and she would have regretted it once the gravity of _murder_ settled in.

Azir looked from Taliyah to Yasuo and back, regarding them with a cool, calculating glare.

“I see that at long last, you both have realized the weight of your actions.” That was directed more pointedly at Taliyah and she turned her eyes away, not meeting Azir’s glare. “Good. You are both dismissed. Yasuo, I expect to meet you at a more opportune time to discuss her punishment. Now, however, you better get out of my sight before the last of my patience evaporates.”

There was a threat there, an unsubtle one at that and she didn’t feel confident enough to call that bluff.  She listened with half an ear while Yasuo hastily suggested a time for their meeting and almost fled the room when it was time to leave, relieved to be away from Azir.

The day went radically differently from what she expected or hoped and she needed to think and meditate on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter big time because I didn't want it to end up as grim as it is, but I'm at a point where I don't want to try to patch it even more. This is meant to be a fun story! Except when the characters refuse to cooperate, apparently.
> 
> That's one of the big reasons why I finally decided on a title change: the story is going in a different enough direction than the first time I tried to write in a similar setting that I wanted to ultimately break the link between the two.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope to see you soon with a more lighthearted chapter next time.


	4. Doppelgänger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlyn investigates a murder hanging in the air between Piltover and Zaun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in quick succession? What kind of sorcery is this?
> 
> A trip outside of the Institute, because I enjoyed Camille's comic a whole lot, but for every reason that isn't lady knife-legs.

Never let it be said that Caitlyn, Sheriff of Piltover, wasn’t a patient person. One had to be to hold onto the position for as long as she had. Her patience however was not endless and the current case valiantly and relentlessly tried her limits. 

One busted ascender, two beaten up thugs, three dead bodyguards, one traumatized lady of high breeding and multiple eyewitness accounts of a woman with blades for legs. It should have been such an easy case. 

If only her eyewitnesses stopped lying for two minutes.

She crossed her arms and gave the three a sharp look, two giant augmented bouncers framing the slight form of Lady Arvino as she tried to dry her tears, with no avail.

“Would someone care to tell me what have _really_ happened here?“

* * *

 

“We ‘ready told you ma’am,“ rumbled one of the thugs, his voice oddly distorted by the breathing mask grafted onto his face. “We were sent to pick the missy up and bring ‘er to the boss, usual like. We were in the lift when crazy knife-legs attacked.“

“She busted the cabin open, and cut down the Arvino bodyguards,“ the other chimed in. The lady between them started sobbing once again and he patted her shoulder awkwardly with a shovel-sized hand. “Then she went for the young miss, but we got in the way. We got lucky, big lugs we are, tough to cut down, but she killed poor Eric when he stood between her and miss Arvino.“

“He started up ‘is fancy light show but she deflected it somehow.“ That was an interesting detail, one that Caitlyn was inclined to believe, despite the whole story sounding like a bunch of bull. “Guess he scared her tho, ‘cause she ran away after she killed ‘im.“

“Then we arrived down and called the police and here we are.“ Between the two of them, Lady Sofia managed a weak nod and sobbed into her handkerchief once again.

Caitlyn waited a spell, just in case one of them decided to fess up.

“Let me get this clear. You expect me to believe that someone attacked the ascender with the goal to kill Lady Arvino, but decided to leave the defenceless young lady alive, killed her bodyguards instead and then ran away into the night?“

“'t was in the afternoon,“ said the one on the left helpfully, but otherwise made no attempt to correct her.

“Do you think me completely stupid?“ she snapped, making Sofia start and the two thugs look aside sheepishly.

“No ma’am.“ Caitlyn frowned, pointing a finger at the three bodies covered with a heavy tarpaulin.

“You must think me stupid, or at the very least blind, because one of those is obviously Baron Marko Volkage, dead as a doorknob. It would be hard for him to be otherwise because he’s missing half of his head.“ All three shrinked back, the gorillas moving closer to support Sofia through another torrent of tears. “So, care to revise to fairytale to be closer to the truth?“

“No ma’am. That’s Eric, not the boss.“ Caitlyn stared off to the distance, counting silently to twenty. At the edge of the police barricade a heavily armed carriage rolled up with the Thunder Club’s luminescent flower painted on the door. A lanky man, a thug posing as a valet no doubt, jumped off and marched to the policemen. Cait was momentarily distracted by what had to be the ugliest fur collar she ever had the misfortune to cast her eyes upon. She shook herself and turned back to what had to be the three least reliable eyewitnesses of her entire career.

“Don’t play me. Why would this ‘Eric’ look exactly like your chembaron?“

“He’s a doppelgangster.“

“Doppelgang-... What did I ask about thinking me stupid?“

“He really was,“ Sofia spoke up at last, voice still small and weak. “Eric Weiss was Marko’s body double and secretary. The killer didn’t know... he couldn’t do the voice but he didn’t speak and he taught me some acting, what to say if the worst happens so she thought she was killing Marko.“ Her shoulders shook as she fought her tears. 

Caitlyn was astonished. There were rumours of course, the sort that filled up the pages of tabloids, that Baron Volkage could be at more places at once, but she never thought there was any truth to them. It fit more into how she imagined the case, so she decided to play along for now.

“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you. If the victim was a body double, where is the genuine article?“ They all looked past her in uncanny unison and she turned to follow their gaze.

The fur collar was even more atrocious up close, sitting oddly around the man’s shoulders. His face was covered by heavy googles and a scarf that no doubt hid his breathing mask. He must have been persistent to get around the policemen.

“Caitlyn sheriff? I am to take Lady Arvino to the tower, for her own safety. I was told to extend an invitation to you too.“ He tilted his head to look up at the two men who rushed to stand at attention. “The oafs are expected at the repair shop, on the double.“

She recalled the delicate tubes and rigging curving around Volkage’s shoulder and resisted the urge to kick someone. They weren’t even subtle.

“Well, I can’t possibly turn down an invitation like that.“

* * *

 

It took surprisingly little to herd the two thugs off to have their eyewitness accounts written down, with a pointed warning from Ugly Fur Collar to tell the truth. Caitlyn found that distinctly funny and she got in the carriage with a smile lurking in the corner of her mouth.

“So,-“ she said, leaning back as they rocked into motion, fixing the man sitting across her with a look. “-is anyone actually deceived by the fur collar?“

Marko Volkage snorted, pulling googles off and tugging the scarf down.

“You’d be surprised.“ She looked him in the eye and held his glare as long as she could before she had to blink - the unfair advantage of mechanical eyes, she supposed.

“They say you are a proud man, Baron. Not someone I expected to use body doubles and disguises.“

“Proud, but not stupid. I have a lot of enemies, as you surely know. Trickery isn’t illegal.“ He gestured with one elegantly crafted hand. His trademark prosthetics were fascinating, if a bit creepy.

“Trickery isn’t.“ She confirmed. “Blackmail is.“ A leap of thought, but seemed like a good enough guess to tell why would the head of clan Arvino would meet up with a chembaron.

He smiled grimly. 

“This is not what you think.“ 

“Then what is it?“ she asked with a provocative smile. She didn’t expect the answer to come from Lady Arvino, sitting quietly to her left.

“Courtship.“ She avoided looking at either of them, hands fisted in her skirt. Volkage's expression softened with hesitance before he gathered his composure again.

“Sheriff, I hope I don’t need to tell you that this is a secret.“ He was visibly tense, his eyes flashing bright for a moment.

“Are you two out of your minds? If this gets out, the Arvino family will be ruined.“ She glared daggers at Volkage who had the decency to look at least a little ashamed. 

“We have a plan.“ Miss Arvino hurried to add. “We just need to keep this a secret for a little longer.“

Caitlyn felt a pang of pity for the woman. No doubt Volkage had talked circles around her.

“Miss Sofia, please consider it. Is this plan worth risking your future for?“ She expected Volkage to disapprove, but he seemed relieved to hear her oppose this mystery plan.

“Please talk her out of it, because I couldn’t.” Caitlyn huffed. She didn’t expect the Baron to be the reasonable one.

“Marko, I appreciate that you are trying to protect my virtue, but I have made up my mind and I’m not starting another argument about this.“ Sofia pouted - honest to gods _pouted_ \- at the Volkage. 

“Hold on a moment, how long have you been dating?“ Caitlyn interrupted before the Baron could retaliate.

“Close to two years,“ Volkage replied courtly. “She started it after she turned eighteen.“

“Is that so, mister flower-scented envelope?“

Caitlyn suddenly felt like she was dropped in a kindergarten.

“Stop, stop, let’s pretend for a moment that we are all sensible adults and not five-year-olds.“ That shut the two of them up, if only for a minute. “Let me get this straight: you have been in a secret relationship for close to two years.“ Nod. “But you have exchanged letter before.“

“It was Lord Arvino’s idea,”  Volkage supplied, his fingers drumming idly on his leg. “He was grooming Sofia to take over after his death and I was a safe enough, interesting business partner to motivate a young girl to do her homework.“

The sheriff had to admit that sounded true enough. Lord Arvino was known to have a prosthetic leg, which was a simple enough tie to Volkage who specialized in prosthetics and other high quality precision gadgets. It was also true that the Baron’s recent reputation was a decent one, as far as chembarons went.

Interesting and dangerous without posing any actual danger. She could see the appeal.

“I feel the need to repeat my question: are you two out of your minds? Business partnerships can be covered up, but a relationship? How long did you expect to keep it a secret?“ It was a small miracle that they managed this long.

“For two more months.” Deciding that there was no more need pretend distance, Sofia slid into the seat across and grabbed one of Volkage’s hands for support. “Father always said that Piltover should be the city of the daring and the visionary and the old nobility is holding it back. That we are wasting opportunities by rejecting Zaun’s potential.” The later Lord Arvino had always been an eccentric man, Caitlyn recalled with some fondness. Nobody else would have donated to much of their money to the modernization of the police force. 

“So he pulled a few dozen strings, dumped a lot of money into the academy, convinced some of the more well-off scientists to support his cause and here we are. The details are still all hush-hush, but the first big project is is almost ready to be unveiled; based on Thunder Club innovations, funded by Clan Arvino. The first big step in bringing Zaun and Piltover closer and brining fresh ideas into our stale academy.“ 

Sofia almost bounced in her seat in excitement. Volkage appeared more pessimistic about the plan, but it was hard to tell with the mechanical eyes.

“I urge you, sheriff, to keep what you heard here a secret. It would nullify years worth of work - not just the projects I’m personally invested in, but several others - and put Sofia in jeopardy.“ 

Caitlyn pursued her lips and made a show of thinking it through. On one hand, whatever storm the late Lord Arvino was stirring, it will certainly uproot the current status quo, causing untold chaos. On the other hand, even if the plan crashes and burns, the waves will most likely bring a lot of shady garbage to the surface and as someone who had been fighting an uphill battle against the corruption within Piltover for years, she could appreciate anything that made her life easier.

“I will keep this under wraps, on one condition.“ She slowly crossed her legs, drawing out the tense silence. “There is a murderer afoot. The one that earlier today assaulted Lady Arvino and her guards.“ Sofia went pale, remembering the bloodshed and her grip on Volkage’s hand tightened until the metal creaked under the strain. “I want your unconditional help in tracking her down, capturing and incapacitating her, then bringing her to justice so she can rot in prison until the end of her miserable life for every murder she committed. Do you think you can give me that.“

Volkage smiled, dangerous and dark and full of malice.

“Oh, sheriff. It would be my pleasure.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really enjoy the idea of this couple so much. Like, the baron died within a page and a half, but what good is fanfiction if I can't retcon somebody's death, am I right? I imagine that they sponsor the League, so they might appear again in the future.


End file.
